


Rumpelstiltskin

by Willam



Series: (Our love is found) Between the Waking and the Dreaming [5]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic, Gunshot Wounds, Intimacy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Partners to Lovers, mentions of alcohol use, postcard fiction, private relationships are private
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7186559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willam/pseuds/Willam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's not sure what he would do if he could guess correctly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumpelstiltskin

“Is it weird sleeping with someone when you don’t know their first name?”

Arthur was so surprised that he sprayed the mouthful of coffee he had across his desk. He looked sharply at Ariadne.

”Excuse me?”  
She looked at him with surprisingly solemn eyes and repeated it again, slowly as if he were a child.

“Is it weird sleeping with someone you don’t know the first name of?”

Arthur dabbed angrily at the coffee stain spreading across his tie, as well as the small spray of caffeine across his desk.  
“What makes you think I’m sleeping with anyone?” 

“Eames” said all his co-workers in unison, the group having gathered around Arthur’s desk to hear his answer.

Arthur rolled his eyes and blotted his tie some more. Eventually he gave up, removing the tie altogether and throwing the napkin in the bin beside his desk, along with all the papers that had been on the top of the desk. He looked up to see the expectant faces of his co-workers; Dom had even perched himself on the corner of his desk. They wanted him to answer their question. He just shook his head, angrily shoving the rest of his papers into his briefcase and muttering something about finishing it at home. Ariadne began to pout.

“Aww Arthur,” she said tugging on his arm. He just shook her off and kept going.

He stormed down the street, in the general direction of his apartment. He was radiating rage, and he had a pretty good idea who was to blame. He had a pretty good idea what he was going to do to the man responsible too. Eames was always telling people Arthur’s business and he was used to it, but this was too far. No one needed to know that Arthur was seeing anyone let alone that he was seeing Eames.

Arthur turned down his street and thought about what Ariadne had asked. Was it weird that he didn’t know Eames’ first name? Did it make a difference really at the end of the day? He had thought about what Eames’ name might be and he had even taken some guesses.

Arthur smiled softly as he thought about the first time he had tried to guess Eames’ name.

They had just had a particularly case where they had lost a partner. He hadn’t been fast enough when the mark had woken up early and they had had to make a run for it. The mark’s security had simply shot him in the back and kept going after the others. Arthur had felt responsible because he had told the man that it would be an easy job and he would have nothing to worry about. Eames had found him in a bar not far from their hotel very determinedly drinking himself silly.

“Go away Mr. Eames,” Arthur said as he downed another shot.

“I’m not sure I should do that Darling, you don’t look like you’re doing very well.” Eames slid himself into the booth next to Arthur, who glared at him briefly before returning to his shots. 

Eames flagged down the waitress.

“Whiskey for me Sweetie, and more of whatever he’s having for him.” Arthur regarded his coworker with blatant suspicion. Eames just wiggled his eyebrows at him.

When the drinks arrived he passed Arthur his shots and settled back in the booth, one leg crossed over the other and an arm slung across the back of the booth, to sip his drink. He watched Arthur as he downed two more shots, his brows knit in concern.

“Maybe you should slow down Darling.”

“If you don’t like it you can always go.”

Eames considered him carefully. He set his drink on the table and leaned forward towards Arthur. Their knees brushed and Arthur coloured slightly.

“I’ll make you a deal Darling. If you can guess my name, I’ll leave you be to drink yourself to death.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want me to go.” Eames settled back into the booth and grinned at Arthur over the rim of his glass.

“Michael.” Eames shook his head. “Richard? James? Peter?”

Eames just laughed. “You’re not even trying Darling.”

“Aristotle.” Eames made a face.

“Definitely not!”

And so they went on and on into the night, Arthur guessing again and again and Eames just shaking his head and grinning. Arthur forgot all about wanting to drink himself to death. They did however make a drinking game out of it and soon Arthur was quite a bit more sloshed then he had been. At this point Eames very gently extracted him from the booth, paid the bill and took him back to his room. He got him undressed and into the bed and was about to leave when Arthur had grabbed his arm.

“Fred.” 

Eames smiled had just smiled down at him and shook his head.

“Sorry Darling, looks like I’m here to stay.”

Arthur had pulled him down then, into the bed and wrapped him around his body. Eames stayed with him that night and every night after.   
Arthur let himself into the apartment quietly, most of his anger now gone. He padded to the bedroom he shared with his lover and slowly opened the door.

Eames was already in bed, seemingly asleep. He was lying on his stomach and the light coming through the curtain from the street lamp outside tinted him blue. Arthur undressed quietly and crawled onto the bed, laying his head on his lover’s naked back. He could work on the reports in the morning.

“You’re late,” murmured Eames, his voice thick with sleep. “Is something wrong?”

“We can talk about it in the morning,” Arthur whispered, running a hand up and down Eames’ flank. He thought for a moment.  
“Rumpelstiltskin?”

He felt the rumble of Eames’ laugh more then heard it. He rolled over and Arthur settled into his side, his head lying on Eames’ chest. Eames buried his nose in Arthur’s hair, smelling of him deeply and giving him a kiss. Arthur could feel him grinning into his hair.

“Not even close Darling.”

“You’re never going to tell me are you?” Arthur asked.

“Would you ever want me to?”

“No,” Arthur whispered into the dark, snuggling closer to his lover and drifting off to sleep.


End file.
